Arlovasquez‌:

Bemelman’s was always full of tourists who wanted in on a hitting up the bar scene. To Ben, that was perfect. He was tired of the looks, the whispers. He told himself he didn’t care about any of that, but that was far from the truth."I’m over everyone staring at me,” He mumbled, looking at the drink in front of him. “Tell me something though,” He said, turning his whole body with him as he spoke. “Why does beer always taste a lot better from the bottle rather than from the tap? I feel like I’m drinking expired apple juice.” He noted, giving his head a shake in disappointment.

quinnxarchibald‌:

Quinn shook his head as he continued to pull Ben to the side, into an empty area of the house. “Nope. You’re not getting out of this. Don’t worry. I got the punching out of my system. Sorry about that by the way.” He replied, nodding toward the brunet’s face. Pausing for a moment to recollect his thoughts, Quinn continued, glaring at Ben as he did. “I’m still so fucking pissed at you. I had to hear from Gossip Girl that you were back. Do you know how shitty that is? You didn’t reach out to me once. Not even when you were back in New York. What the fuck?”

It was a shitty thing to do. Ben knew that. “What did you want me to do? Just show up at wherever you’re living and surprise you?” He asked rhetorically. “I came back. And I came back for you, okay?” Ben needed to do this on his own terms. “But seeing you and saying what I want to say and need to say is a lot harder than practicing in the fucking mirror.” He admitted, looking past Quinn. He couldn’t look him in the eyes right now. He wasn’t ready for this. 

seboriley‌:

Sebastian stares… and stares… and stares some more. Finally, he works up enough energy to blink his eyes—more a harsh squint, like he’s trying to recalibrate—and maintain a pained expression on his face. “Okay,” he says finally, raising his palms as if to seize the moment with the gesture. “It is way too early in the night for you to start getting philosophical—wait… What does being American have to do with understanding time? Is it because we don’t have Big Ben staring us in the face like they do in Europe? ‘Cause we’ve got a big Ben of our own.” With that, he delivers two swift, feather-light jabs to Ben’s gut, grinning and chuckling to himself before reconnecting some… now awkward eye contact. “You want some tequila shots?”

Was he getting theoretical already? Someone should tell Ben that he wasn’t Aristotle. “Fuck, stop me. Don’t let me start telling you shit until I’m a few bottles in.” He was dead serious, Ben only wanted to be a philosopher when he was wasted. He then stared at Sebastian, wishing that he had made a different pun. No one joked about the Big Ben like that in England. “I’m a lot younger than that tower.” He had a dry sense of humor for the most part, and really only laughed at the expense of others. "Do you have any limes? I’m not sure my mouth can handle tequila without it.” Say what you want but that shit hurt.  

quinnxarchibald‌:

“Oh my god, I feel like I haven’t had real social interaction in, like, two weeks. How am I even supposed to talk to people anymore?” Quinn asked, shaking his head as he watched the person sit down across from him. 

Ben looked at Quinn, before turning away. “Why would you want any socialization with anyone around here?” He asked, “I feel like it never ends well.” Ben could say that from personal experience with the last two parties he had attended. “Not to mention that most socialization happens through screens nowadays.”

text @ everyone (wren's entire contact list)

Wren: It's my Christmas card. I made it online.

Ben: Christmas is celebrated so differently in Europe.

Ben: we should try to give it a shot over here.

kingkirbey‌:

King watched Ben work himself into a state, hating how helpless she felt. As much as she wanted to tell him that Quinn would eventually forgive him — that he had to — she knew her words would be empty. Quinn was practically a stranger to her, she knew only as much about him as Ben had told her, and she definitely didn’t know how quick he would be to forgive something that had taken such a toll on his life. “Being here is trying. And if he doesn’t see that you’re doing what you can to make it right, maybe his friendship isn’t meant to be.” King hated to be so blunt about the situation, but in her eyes it was the truth. If Quinn couldn’t see the obvious effort Ben was making to make things right, then screw him. “As much as I would really, really love that, I think it would be rude of us to ditch this party when the hostess’ are letting us crash in their guest room and drink all of their coffee for free. But we could take shots out here until your face doesn’t hurt anymore?” Moving to the counter, she plucked a bottle of tequila from the mess of half empty alcohol bottles held it up with a triumphant smile. “Isolating ourselves in the kitchen doesn’t technically count as ditching.”

Out of everyone he’s ever known, King could always cheer him right up and get him out of his own funk. Who knows where he’d be now if she didn’t find him in some shit bar in Italy? Having to accept the loss of such a close friendship wasn’t something Ben could swallow. This wasn’t supposed to end like this. Then again, what happy ending ever happened to him? “You’re right,” He admitted, at least he was offering Quinn an olive branch. It just sucked that this wasn’t going to work out. He slid off of the stool he was on and dragged his feet as he walked, “Damn us for being so polite,” He joked, “And for having a coffee addiction,” He rubbed his hands together in excitement at the mention of shots. “If we were in Germany, we’d be having Cinnamon with these shots, I miss tequila oro,” He pointed out. No one would probably miss them in here anyway. “Here’s to getting punched in the face.”

monty-santos‌:

“I don’t know, not all mall Santas are that way.  Or I”m assuming, I don’t actually know,” Monty shrugged, though he couldn’t really imagine places hiring drunks for a job that required them to be around children all day, “I don’t think so, it’s jsut for the donkey.  Though any kid who sends letters to Santa gets a response, which I think is pretty cool.” 

He was just going by the reputation that mall Santas had. They were always a version of a bum. “Who the hell is writing all of those letters back to those kids?” Someone had way too much time on their hands. “I think France should be focusing on other things, if it were up to me,” Then again he wasn’t in the French Parliament. “I spent some time there, I would know. They also aren’t huge fans of Americans, especially when I told them that I was from the City.” 

kingkirbey‌:

“You look very handsome. I’d even call you ravishing.” She was always teasing him, it was their natural state of being, but there was sincerity in her tone as well. He was exactly her type and she liked to make sure he knew it. Ben was, in King’s eyes, the perfect man for her. At the mention of a burger, King’s head popped up. “I need Shake Shack. God, why did we come here when we could’ve been getting burgers this whole time.” She was only half kidding, food was serious business in King’s mind. “I doubt anyone’s partying down there but I’m willing to bet it’s way too crowded. But maybe there’s a Shake Shack nearby and we can sneak out in a little? I’d maybe even settle for Five Guys.”

He felt his cheeks turn a bit red when she complimented him. “Ravishing? You sure know the way to get into my pants.” He chuckled, letting a smile appear on his face. Showing any happy expression felt abnormal around here. It wasn’t like he loved being around these people, but King, King was different. He actually wanted to be around her. “That sounds pretty great, actually,” Having some solids will help him sober up too. Not to mention that he was a simple man now. Basic things made him happy, like burgers. “We should get out of here soon” He agreed, "But we’re going to a Shake Shack. It’s decided.” He insisted, “I have to break the seal really bad.” He said as he looked around for a bathroom. “After that, let me just finish this beer too,” He didn’t want to waste any beer “And then we can try to look for a quiet Shake Shack.” Little did he know that that was not how his night was going to go at all.

 chessieabernathy‌:

Somewhere past the sunrise, Chessie hadn’t woken with feeling a common feeling of being both groggy and mildly hungover. The combination always warranted a warm cup of coffee to ease her into the day – Even with plenty of party guests sleeping all over her home thanks to the blizzard, she didn’t miss a beat. Having changed in a short robe, pulled close, she brewed a pot, leaning against the kitchen counter as she scanned the room. “Morning, sunshine,” she comments quietly, giving the new addition an arched brow. “Help yourself.” Chessie offers, nodding to the pot next to her.

Ben started feeling more comfortable around the apartment that he was intruding in. It had been a few weeks and he finally was deciding he could take most things without asking. The one problem was that Ben wasn’t a morning person. He’d much rather sleep in than have to get up. But for some reason, he was up. It took him at least an hour to wake up, another thirty minutes to be open to conversation, it was a whole process. Add in the fact that he was hungover and his face fucking hurt. Not to mention that getting to sleep was a whole process. Maybe it was all of the guilt that he had to live with. It had to be cold and he had to sleep in just his boxers. However, he always made sure he was decent when he went outside of the room that he and King shared. After he rubbed his eyes, adjusting to some light, he trekked to the kitchen. He looked at Chessie, giving her a hand to at least acknowledge her. “Stop being so loud,” He told her in a whisper. “It’s hurting my head.” Since when did he get hangovers? It was this American shit. He took some coffee before he looked back at her, “Do you think we can get out to the terrace for a quick smoke?” He asked, not knowing the extent of the snow from the blizzard.

I like airplanes. I like anywhere that isn’t a proper place. I like in betweens.

Neil Gaiman, The Sandman, Vol. 7: Brief Lives. (via thequotejournals)